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Flowers for Him
Flowers for Him
Flowers for Him
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Flowers for Him

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He wanted to learn about beauty. He never expected to learn about love.

Billionaire Chandler Harrison's third marriage is now history, and he's left with his ex-wife's parting barb, 'You have no appreciation of beauty.' Determined to prove her wrong, Chandler hires artist Neil Sweeney to add a mural to his office wall. He doesn't even care what the picture is, as long as it's beautiful.

Neil Sweeney is an ex-tagger, a free spirit, and a bit of a hippie. He's never met anybody as uptight as Chandler, but when it comes to warming up Chandler's cold, stark office, Neil has plans involving more than art.

Chandler begins to find himself strangely moved by the mural developing on his office wall. He's especially moved by the artist himself. Chandler has denied his homosexual urges for most of his life, but it isn't long before Neil begins introducing Chandler to all kinds of new things. As Neil's masterpiece comes to life, so does Chandler's appreciation for art, colour, and the best kind of beauty of all—love.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateOct 5, 2013
ISBN9781781843048
Flowers for Him
Author

Marie Sexton

Marie Sexton lives in Colorado. She’s a fan of just about anything that involves muscular young men piling on top of each other. In particular, she loves the Denver Broncos and enjoys going to the games with her husband. Her imaginary friends often tag along. Marie has one daughter, two cats, and one dog, all of whom seem bent on destroying what remains of her sanity. She loves them anyway.

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    Book preview

    Flowers for Him - Marie Sexton

    A Total-E-Bound Publication

    www.total-e-bound.com

    Flowers for Him

    ISBN # 978-1-78184-304-8

    ©Copyright Marie Sexton and Rowan Speedwell 2013

    Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright April 2013

    Edited by Eleanor Boyall

    Total-E-Bound Publishing

    This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

    Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

    The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

    Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

    Warning:

    This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 3.

    This story contains 48 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 8 pages.

    FLOWERS FOR HIM

    Marie Sexton and Rowan Speedwell

    He wanted to learn about beauty. He never expected to learn about love.

    Billionaire Chandler Harrison’s third marriage is now history, and he’s left with his ex-wife’s parting barb, You have no appreciation of beauty. Determined to prove her wrong, Chandler hires artist Neil Sweeney to add a mural to his office wall. He doesn’t even care what the picture is, as long as it’s beautiful.

    Neil Sweeney is an ex-tagger, a free spirit, and a bit of a hippie. He’s never met anybody as uptight as Chandler, but when it comes to warming up Chandler’s cold, stark office, Neil has plans involving more than art.

    Chandler begins to find himself strangely moved by the mural developing on his office wall. He’s especially moved by the artist himself. Chandler has denied his homosexual urges for most of his life, but it isn’t long before Neil begins introducing Chandler to all kinds of new things. As Neil’s masterpiece comes to life, so does Chandler’s appreciation for art, colour, and the best kind of beauty of all—love.

    Trademarks Acknowledgement

    The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

    Walgreens: Walgreen Co.

    Deathtrap: Warner Brothers

    HBO: Time Warner, Inc.

    Honda: Honda Motor Company Ltd.

    Chapter One

    Chandler

    The room that served as both my office and my boardroom was perfect in every way. White walls. White floor. A polished black teak desk against the wall, and a matching table in the middle. The fixtures were all black and silver, as were the chairs.

    Streamlined. Practical. Functional. Just the way I liked it.

    The only thing out of place was the artist I was paying to destroy it.

    This is all Abby’s fault.

    An uncharitable thought, but it was foremost in my mind as I showed him into the room. He was in his early thirties, younger than I by a good ten years. His ragged jeans and threadbare T-shirt were stained with paint, as were the brown plastic-rimmed glasses he wore. He needed a haircut. I made a mental note to be more specific next time I asked for an artist. No hippies. No freaks.

    Too late now.

    This is the wall? He pushed his hair out of his eyes and stepped back to survey the pristine expanse of eggshell white.

    Is it sufficient?

    You bet. He turned in a slow circle to glance slowly around the room. Wow. This is… He waved his hand in circles as he searched for a word.

    Clean?

    I was going to say boring, but yeah. Clean, too.

    Definitely Abby’s fault. Abby was ex-wife number three. You’re uptight, Chandler, and you’re boring! she’d said when she left me—and my substantial bank account—for an electrician. You’ll never learn to relax.

    I can relax, I’d countered. I have a pool. I have a Jacuzzi. I have a sauna. I have my own private masseuse! What else do I need?

    She’d laughed at me. You need to learn to appreciate life. To look for beauty. She’d turned to gesture at the white walls of my office. Look at this! This is exactly what I’m talking about.

    Then she’d left, and I’d sat there, staring at the untainted white walls of my office, trying to sort through it.

    Two weeks later, I’d decided to prove her wrong by having a mural painted on the long wall opposite my desk. I’d told my secretary to find me an artist.

    What kind of artist?

    I don’t know, I’d snapped. A good one.

    Of course, Mr Harrison. But what style? Realistic? Fantasy? Abstract?

    Not abstract. Definitely no abstract.

    And now here I was, staring at this rumpled, paint-stained man. What’s your name?

    Neil Sweeney. He turned to shake my hand. Do you prefer to be called Mr Harrison?

    I did, and yet suddenly, I didn’t want to admit it. It made me feel old. You can call me Chandler.

    His smile grew bigger. Great!

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